The Ill-Breed - Act Up [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse One]
I load up the mic and I start shooting, pow
Stray sounds hit the ground by the pound
And gets the party moving like a shooter
Jam packed, on attack, Ill Breed by the stack
My atmosphere, true ghetto but I got Stamina
Heads up like the Damaja
I cram my mind with non-swine
My rhyme pack a full clip to blow your crew's mind
Who's design got magic funk
Tragic for punks coming through with the bad shit
The buddah from Bucktown
Bag a bitch and then back to Shaolin grounds
95 is for the function
Three dimension in the solar so far
My cloud is like a superstar
So far
I got your ears open like a motherfucking crowbar
No more I cry
My thoughts are numb to the ways of the world outside
I know who you are
No talent MC, I'ma give the third degree
Idolize me, to the T
Ill Breed
TV and movie
Move me? Never
Too clever
In any kind of weather
I'ma ela-vate
Wait, too late
Checkmate
Ayo bring in the break

[Hook] {x2}
(Act up!)
The blunts make me do that
(Go wild!)
My niggas make me do that
(Act up!)
The stunts make me do that
(Go wild!)
The ghetto make me do that

[Verse Two]
Truth or dare, I'll take the dare, don't care
My [?] be outta there, I'm outta fear
Sway this sway when I sway
Ill Breed about to take the U.S.A
And ain't nobody, better
Funk like cheddar, boy kill that set up
I got my trigger man spinning MC's like a fan
I'm Dapper like I'm motherfucking Dan
And I can pull the tec or the Macs
Lay 'em on they backs
And write 'em off like Fed tax
I'm the government man I got the true plan
Cause my grill got the true tan
Bland MC's need seasoning
Salt, need to halt, it's all your fault
Jam after jam, my brand's the flim flam
And take a high post stance
I can blow the amps
Knock out, first round
The champ of all champs
Professional MC to the next century
Who the Ill Breed? That's me
Six rhymes in the chamber
Head banger
Doing more damage than a bitch and a hanger
Rap singer
You'll get the finger
Party bringer
Brain stinger
Ghetto ringer

[Hook]

[Verse Three]
I'm that man
Who can have the shit drop all plan
Use the urban land, who's that man?
The Ill Breed flip it to you in 3D
Making sushi out of doo-doo MC's
Swinging they bats, raw lyrical attacks
Fake jacks, be fake like they macks
And jaw japs be daily
(Buck, buck, buck, buck, chic-chic pow)
Be daily
Flava
Like my niggas, Beatminerz delivers
Shit that makes bone shivers
Move it out no move it in
Now move it out, no move it in
We moving to win
Now move it on got Shaolin and Crooklyn
Manhattan to Bronx and Queens lit

It's like that y'all. Ill function. For '95, live

[Hook]